


Breathe It In (Let It Go)

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: He knows Jason Todd like he knows the back of his hand. His every breath. His every move. He knows when he’s pissed and trying to hide it. He knows when he’s upset and needs space. And he knows when Jason’s worried about him and doesn’t want him to know.It was easier on everyone for Dick to be the worrier instead of the one to worry about.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 12
Kudos: 157





	Breathe It In (Let It Go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUNNFROMTHEAK/gifts).



> For an exchange among friends. I hope you enjoy it, AK!!

**Back from the dead we went through. Back from the dead, and both our tongues are tied.**

He wakes in a cold sweat, feeling like he’s suffocating. He can’t breathe. He can’t move. A strong pair of hands tries to grab him and he flinches away as hard as he can. “Dick?” a voice cuts through the fog, but he can’t quite place who it belongs to. Everything is blurry and wrong and he can’t quite remember where he is or who he’s with. “Dick?” the voice repeats, but Dick still isn’t quite with him yet.

His eyes dart down to a hand wrapped around his bicep. It’s on his arm. Not covering his mouth. He can breathe. He can move… He takes a shaky breath and looks back up. Jason stares back at him, eyes full of worry and maybe just a hint of fear.

“Dick?” he tries again, voice soft and gentle like he’s trying to comfort a small child. “You with me?”

Dick nods slowly as he pries himself away from Jason. Maybe another day, another time, he would have stayed. Dick never has liked being comforted. It’s so much easier when the positions are reversed. 

He knows Jason Todd like he knows the back of his hand. His every breath. His every move. He knows when he’s pissed and trying to hide it. He knows when he’s upset and needs space. And he knows when Jason’s worried about him and doesn’t want him to know.

It was easier on everyone for Dick to be the worrier instead of the one to worry about.

“Bad dream,” he mutters as he climbs out of bed, grabbing an old shirt from the floor and making his way to the connected bathroom. He needs to brush his teeth to get the awful taste out of his mouth.

“Spyral?” Jason asks, and Dick feels his blood run cold. He gives a slight shake of his head and pushes the bathroom door open, hoping Jason gets the hint and lets it drop, even if he knows that won’t happen. Jason knows how to push all their buttons, and he always has.

He hears Jason’s feet hit the floor as he turns on the tap, just to listen to the water run. Anything to drown out the thoughts in his head. He glances up into the mirror and sees Jason start to approach, think better of it, and leave the bedroom for the main part of the house.

A smart move if ever Dick’s seen one.

He spends more time in the bathroom than he needs to, just wanting to be alone. Needing to be alone. 

He kills the water and glances at himself in the mirror. His hair’s an absolute mess, but he can’t be bothered to fix it. The clock by the bed reads just after 3 AM. It’s not like he has anywhere to be.

Jason’s sitting at the kitchen island when Dick emerges. He’s got major bedhead and dark circles under his eyes, but Dick’s pretty sure those have been there since Jason came back. He’s always said part of Death stuck to him.

Sometimes Dick wonders if he’s got a little Death stuck on himself.

“Hey,” Jason greets, tilting his head up to look at Dick. 

“Hey,” Dick responds, hoping his voice sounds stronger than he feels. He crosses the room and pulls a mug down from the cabinet, starting up the coffee pot like he’s on auto-pilot. It’s scary, in a way, how used they’ve gotten to doing things like this. Between Jason’s nightmares and his own he isn’t sure he’s ever gotten a solid week of good night’s sleeps.

A silence hangs between them, and Dick doesn’t know if it’s better to break it or better to keep on pretending everything’s fine even though both of them know it isn’t. 

In the end, it’s Jason who breaks it.

“How long are we gonna keep doing this, Dick?” he asks. His voice is tired and withdrawn in a way that Dick doesn’t usually hear it. A shudder runs down his spine as he pours two cups of coffee, one for him, and one for Jason, and carries them to the island where Jason sits.

“Doing what?” Dick asks, hopping onto the barstool next to him.

Jason sighs and gestures at the air in front of him, like it should be obvious. “This. Everything. Dancing around problems because we don’t want to deal with them.”

“I’m not dancing around anything,” Dick snaps, slamming his mug down harder than he probably needs to. Jason flinches, and Dick hates himself a little bit more. He knows better than to do this around him. It never brings back anything good. It never  _ fixes  _ anything.

“Didn’t your doc prescribe Xanax or something?” Jason asks, and Dick doesn’t like where this conversation is going. He can feel his throat tighten. He can practically hear his heart beating harder. “Maybe you should take one.”

Dick screws his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. He tries to calm down before he says something he knows he’ll regret. It’s not that easy, and Jason knows it. He’s tried, God knows, to get over it. But every time he feels Luthor’s hand pressing against his mouth, forcing a tiny little pill down his throat. 

If he’s being honest? He doesn’t remember much of it. But his body certainly does.

Jason stands up and moves behind him. He wraps one arm around Dick’s waist and pets one of Dick’s arms with his free hand. He tucks Dick’s head under his chin, and for a moment they just exist together. Two people at a point in time, locked together for one reason or another, feeling each other’s successes and pains sometimes more deeply than they felt it themselves. 

Dick shuts his eyes and leans back into Jason. He can feel Jason’s heart beating against his back, a rhythmic thud that’s more comforting than it probably should be. 

Jason doesn’t say anything, and that does more for Dick than any word could. Bruce always wants him to talk things out, to force him to feel things he doesn’t want to feel before he’s really ready to feel them. Jason? Jason just lets him  _ be.  _ And sometimes all he needs is to just exist. To remember he’s alive.

Dick eventually breaks out of the embrace and picks up his mug, staring down at its contents. He takes his coffee black, a complete opposite of Jason’s creamer-with-a-splash-of-coffee preference. Jason always tells him they’re perfect for each other. Something about opposites attracting. A small laugh catches in his throat but doesn’t quite make it past his lips.

“You work today?” Jason asks, moving back to his stool. Three months of living together and they already have ‘their’ spots. Dick shakes his head and takes a drink of his coffee, some grocery store brand with some artificial flavoring or another. “That’s good. We should, I dunno, do something.”

Dick nods slowly, but doesn’t reply immediately. He doesn’t really feel like going out right now, not when the nightmare is still fresh and he doesn’t quite trust himself. 

Jason, of course, reads him like a book. It’s almost scary how well he can determine what every last one of them is feeling. “Or we could stay in. Roy got Disney Plus and gave me the password.”

“That sounds nice,” Dick nods and sets his mug back down. Jason stands up and takes his empty mug, rinsing it out before putting it back in the sink. 

“Mind if I shower first?” Jason asks, and Dick shakes his head. “You gonna be okay?”

“I think I can handle myself for ten minutes, Jay,” Dick glares, but it’s half-hearted. He isn’t some fragile little thing that’ll break at the slightest mishandling. Years of training with Bruce has made damn sure of that.

“Okay,” Jason sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Dick watches as he leaves the kitchen, heading back through the bedroom door. The walls are so thin he can hear the sound of the water turning on and falling. He stands up, cleans the mugs, and pads over to the living area, plopping down onto the couch and flipping on the TV, surfing channels just to give his hands something to do.

Jason emerges from the bathroom in a pair of battered sweats and an old t-shirt that clings to his damp frame. Water drips from his hair, and normally Dick would argue that it isn’t that hard to towel dry your hair before leaving the bathroom, but he doesn’t have that fight in him right now.

Jason all but falls beside him and kicks his feet onto the coffee table. “So. What are we watching?”

Dick shrugs and tosses the remote Jason’s way. He catches it in midair. It would have been impressive if it had been anyone who hadn't been trained by the Batman himself. Jason flips the channel away from whatever infomercial was playing over to some home remodel show or another. “Thought you liked Food Network better?” Dick asks, feeling a bit more like himself.

Jason shrugs and wraps an arm around Dick’s shoulders, pulling him close. Dick grins and rests his head on Jason’s shoulder, letting him play with his hair. It’s almost second nature by this point, and Dick doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of how well they fit together. Jason doesn’t press, and Dick doesn’t offer, and he’s not sure if it's entirely healthy, but he appreciates it just the same.

“So,” Jason speaks, cutting through a peaceful silence. “Let me get this straight. He’s in a cover band. She makes clay pots… And their budget is two million?”   


A laugh escapes Dick’s throat. “You’re dead and own what? Two condos?”

“Yeah, but that’s Talia’s money,” Jason answers. A slight edge creeps into his voice, and Dick drops it. Talia’s a sore subject and probably always will be. 

It’s so much easier to pretend.

Dick shuts his eyes, and Jason pulls him impossibly closer, like he’s afraid to let him go. “I’ve got you, Goldie,” he whispers into Dick’s ear.

Dick smiles his first genuine smile in months and sleeps peacefully for the first time in years.


End file.
